Just His Life
by Tarafina
Summary: It was time to pretend and sadly he was good at that. Dean-centric, Chloe/Dean


**Title**: Just His Life  
**Rating**: T  
**Genre**: Angst/Romance  
**Pairing**: Dean/Chloe  
**Prompt**: firstline fiction comm. - "Sometimes, loves isn't enough."  
**Summary**: It was time to pretend and sadly he was good at that.

**_Just His Life_**

1/1

"_Sometimes, loves isn't enough_." Ironic that they were _her _parting words and not his. After all their fighting to try and be together and get through it all, she was the one who told him their love wasn't going to keep them going. That they could fight all they wanted, but still lose. That they could keep trying to get through it and never really get anywhere. It was petty, but he still wished he'd been the one to break her heart and not the other way around. Even if in the end, her leaving, whether it was his choice or hers, still hurt him. He knew why it ended; his lifestyle just had that effect. People either left him or died trying to stay. He almost wished she chose the second, because at least then, he'd have had a little while longer with her.

His brother was sitting on the other side of the room, obviously searching for some kind of uplifting crap to make him feel better and coming up empty. Probably because he hadn't seen it coming. Despite the end, he and Chloe had it good for awhile there. The beginning was rocky; he was a suspicious guy by nature and she was previously an investigative reporter. But she grew on him and eventually, he grew on her too. And somewhere along the way, in between killing demons and searching for some kind of stability in life, they fell in love.

He wouldn't call it perfect. Hell, nothing in his life is. But what they had was lasting; or at least he hoped it was. She could handle the hunting, even enjoyed it, got right in and helped them solve the big mysteries that surrounded each new job. And while living out of the motels was never fun, they had a good time working the bedsprings until they were ready to snap. If they had nothing else, they had a healthy sex life. But it was always more than that, even if he wanted to trivialize it given his now further broken heart.

She was the type of woman made for him; spunky and brash and confident; a little danger prone and a lot curious. She was beautiful but she didn't flaunt it, used it when she had to, but didn't see herself nearly as clearly as he saw her. She saw a less than gorgeous second rate Lois Lane; always comparing herself to her friends or her family, feeling like she always came up short. The men of her life always turned toward the exotic beauties she palled around with and so left her with a rather dismal outlook on herself. But he saw her, didn't look twice at Lois or Lana or any of the other "L" named girlfriends she had pictures of.

And things for them were better than expected given what kind of life he led. She and Sam got on great and she wasn't shocked or disgusted by hunting, instead intrigued and involved. She had her past and he had his and she wasn't shy about sharing hers, so long as he didn't ask questions about secrets she wasn't ever going to reveal. He appreciated that; had enough of his own not to ask.

Didn't take long for him to fall and fall hard. She wasn't telling him to slow down; if anything she was joining him in their speedy relationship that seemed to overpower a whole of other things. He didn't feel so jaded or damaged with her and he didn't feel like he had to hide what was going on or what he was thinking. She listened when he talked and talked when he just needed to listen. All the same, she didn't let him hide in his misery and when he cranked the music to shut out all the emo crap she and Sammy could bring up, she purposely sung loud and off key until he shut it off and pointedly told her to stop butchering the classics. And then she'd grin and he'd feel a little better a whole lot earlier than he expected to.

But now she was gone, packed up her bag and left him with four parting words that didn't make it hurt any less. Maybe if things had been different... He sighed, running his hands over his face. Three weeks ago, he's been stuck between cloud eight and cloud nine. She was pregnant. A slip up was bound to happen given their unofficial ritual after each successful hunt. But he'd still been shocked and terrified and not just a little ready to bolt. They didn't tell Sam, they wanted to figure out just what they were going to do.

It was just as he was starting to get used to it. He was gonna be a dad. He was gonna teach his son how to fish and hunt and properly clean a gun. Maybe not for a few years, but still... And he'd be there, every day. His kid would have both his parents; not a messed up memory of a mom who died too young and a dad who was obsessed with killing evil sons o' bitches. He was gonna teach his kid the magic of Zeppelin and make sure he knew that man's best friend wasn't any golden retriever, it was his classic car. He was scared, wasn't sure he was right for the job, but he loved her and he was gonna love his kid too. So he came to terms with it; Dean Winchester, hunter and father. Just like his old man. And then it all went sour.

She wasn't going to be in on the next hunt, just a spectator, working the research angle and nothing else. But she got dragged into it involuntarily and by the end of it, there were a whole lot of shattered dreams and added nightmares. The baby was gone before it was ever really there and neither of them knew how to deal with that. So they fought, a lot, about nothing and everything, until he was tired of yelling and she was tired of crying, and he could only hold her for so long before she'd push him away.

So now here he was, alone and lost and all he could do was tell himself that it was just his luck; just his life. He smiled; dark and sad and cracking and he stood up from the bed, pulling his coat on. "I'm gettin' drunk," was all he said before he stomped off toward the bar. He'd find some no-class blonde, try to make it hurt a little less, and go on with his life. Because that's what he did; what he always ended up doing. And all that jaded bullshit that faded away when he held her resurfaced tenfold. Because hell, love _wasn't_ enough, and damnit, he was never going to try again. She was it and she was gone and he was just plain done. As he stepped into the smoky bar, he spotted blonde hair and hoped for green eyes. He stiffened his shoulders, replacing his scowl with a smirk that nobody but his ex and his brother would see through. It was time to pretend and sadly he was really good at that.

**Author's Note**: _I wrote a few Dean/Chloe shorts the other night. Hope you're enjoying them! Luv yas - Fina!_


End file.
